


If We Just Get Through Tonight

by via_ostiense



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Gen, chain_of_fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-29
Updated: 2005-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:58:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/via_ostiense/pseuds/via_ostiense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>chain_of_fics, prompt "Sometimes sorry isn't enough."</p>
            </blockquote>





	If We Just Get Through Tonight

"Sometimes sorry isn't enough." Mark forced the words out of his throat; they'd clogged up in there and it wasn't just the shock of the cold air that made it difficult to breathe. He stared at the person standing on his stoop, all peeling skin and sunbleached hair. Apologies hadn't ever fixed things before, just allowed them to go on until they eased back into normalcy on their own. After awkward silences, eventually the quiet would break and they'd start plucking strings and recording scenes around each other again.

"I said I'm sor-" Roger broke off. "Look, can you let me in? I just need a place to crash, I'll be out of your way tomorrow." He rubbed his arms and shivered.

Mark flinched, hearing the familiar words. "If you're going to be out of here tomorrow, why should I let you stay tonight, Roger?" Santa Fe was warmer, nicer than New York, so he must have returned for a reason. It might be alright to let him in, just for the night--he ended that line of thought and waited.

Roger, who'd been staring in his general vicinity but not actually looking at him, met his eyes briefly. Mark returned the look as levelly as he could, but his hands clenched on the doorframe. He wasn't sure which way Roger would jump, and it was more than possible that he'd pick up his battered bag and shuffle off to Collins' place, trailing white puffs of breath behind him for Mark to stare at, ghosts of memories. If he was going to do that, though, he shouldn't bother letting him in again, it was for the best, really. The splintery wood was digging into his palms, pricks of hurt against the numbness of the cold.

Roger cleared his throat. "I won't leave, then, if it's alright." He paused, then continued, "I need to - I need to find Mimi."

A moment worthy of preservation, said a detached voice in Mark's brain. Roger, committing at last? He stepped back from the doorway and headed up the stairs without looking back. "Come on up, then."


End file.
